


Can't Stop

by chucks_prophet



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bar/Pub, Angry Dean Winchester, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Breaking Up & Making Up, Castiel and Dean Winchester Need to Use Their Words, Comforting Castiel, Grieving Dean, Guy's Night Out, Heavy Angst, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, M/M, Mechanic Dean, Mentions of Cancer, Minor Character Death, Past Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Past Character Death, Post-Break Up, References to Canon, Sad Castiel, but no spoilers, still in love, wow what a tag list sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-30
Updated: 2017-03-30
Packaged: 2018-10-12 18:25:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10496910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chucks_prophet/pseuds/chucks_prophet
Summary: Dean’s heart feels like someone’s taking a jackhammer to it. All these years, not knowing, and then the truth comes and breaks the thick layer of concrete coding around his heart, so that nobody could break it again. But this, he isn’t preparing for. “Cas,” he says, closing his eyes as he coaxes his head down with his hands in his hair, “if I had known…”





	

**Author's Note:**

> Soooooooo, originally this was gonna be angst to anger to passionate sex, but since I'm good in the angst department. And they both needed closure, so this worked out for the better, anyway.
> 
> Also, this had MANY alternative endings/outcomes. I'm glad this fic gave me the opportunity to explore that side of writing.

_“Hey, I was doing just fine before I met you_  
I drink too much and that's an issue but I'm okay  
Hey, you tell your friends it was nice to meet them  
But I hope I never see them again

 _I know it breaks your heart_  
Moved to the city in a broke down car  
And four years, no calls  
Now you're looking pretty in a hotel bar  
And I can't stop  
No, I can't stop”

  * “Closer”, The Chainsmokers feat. Halsey



Can’t Stop

**A/N: Title inspired by The Chainsmokers ft. Halsey tune \m/**

It starts as a guy’s night out. Dean, Benny, and Richie (and Sam, but he’s with Jess, who’s in labor with their third child)—three guys on a mission to wind down from the stresses of work and just be something other than a mechanic, a cook, and a car salesman for one day: where  _they_  get to define who they are. And what better place than at a bar? A little liquid courage can go a long ways.

Well, that’s what Dean thought, too. Because, across the way, he spots something that’s definitely out of place.

He definitely notices him as Dean approaches, because he quickly turns back to being engrossed with the splinters he’s going to get underneath his fingernails from the bar counter. “Haven’t seen you in a blue moon.”

I have, Dean thinks. I’ve seen you at the bottom of my Blue Moons. Instead, what comes out as he sits down is, “How long has it been?”

Dean knows how long it’s been.

“Four years,” Cas replies, laughing without any humor as he turns to Dean. "What're you drinking?"

Seriously? It’s been four years and he wants to know _what Dean’s drinking?_ "Bourbon whiskey."

"I thought you were clean,” Cas says.

“I thought you weren’t supposed to scratch so hard into the counters,” Dean bites back. “I don’t know who it is, but it must suck playing the waiting game,” Dean remarks, shrugging as he downs some of the whiskey. Dean continues looking into his glass when Cas doesn’t continue before saying, "I was. Clean, I mean. A lot's changed since you left.”

"I was just asking a question,” Cas says.

"What else would I be drinking at a bar?"

Cas sways his head like a wrecking ball. The two have a lot in common, the way they both take their time pulling back to create the most devastation. "I don't know... iced tea?"

"Iced—” Dean gets interrupted by his own dry laugh, despite the whiskey that burned his throat moments before. “That’s funny, coming from the guy who refuses to spill his own on where he's been the past four years."

Cas closes his eyes and swallows, like he’s the one in pain. That’s funny, too.

Dean doesn’t see Benny making his way over to him, but he can feel the meaty hand that grips the back of the stool as he asks, "Everything okay, Chief?"

"Splendid," Dean insists without swapping glances as he slams his glass on the sticky counter. Talk about breaking the ice. "Or should I say Splenda. I’ll need it for my _tea_."

"Alright," Benny replies, not without side-eyeing Cas with those husky blue eyes in a way that could unnerve the crypt keeper himself. "I'll leave ya to it then."

There’s a silence that lingers between them, similar to the silences Dean’s been used to being alone. It’s not like he hasn’t hooked up with anyone. Dean has slept with a few people, but never anything exclusive. Since Cas’s untimely departure, he’s been afraid of breaking someone’s heart—like he’s the one at fault for Cas’s cowardly action. But to him, it makes sense. The one person he loved so passionately left without a goodbye, like a bad country song. Where else can the blame be shoved if not on himself?

"Is that your boyfriend?" Cas asks, stirring him from his thoughts of yesterday.

The balls on him. "No, he's more like a brother to me,” Dean spits, venom practically spilling over his lips. “He's been there for me the past few years. You know, family."

"Dean, I..."

"Yeah, I know that voice," scoffs Dean with the shake of his head, "and eyebrows raising. Those are the beginning stages of an apology."

"What do you want, Dean?" Cas says, without heat, "do you want to punch me? Is that it? Go ahead, take a swing if that's what you need."

"I want you to get mad!" yells Dean. "I want you to be mad like I'm mad!  I want to see steam pouring like a humidifier from your ears! I want you to yell until your face pops like a fresh fucking zit! I want you to be so consumed by rage and-and sadness, to the point where you lose your job, your sobriety, your mental health—all of it!" Dean's cut short by the sob that climaxes in his throat. The whiskey looks far away, but that's probably because of the tears clouding his eyes and his better judgment. "What did I... what did I do?"

A beat passes that feels more like another year without Cas, then Cas says: "Dean."

He can't see Cas with his head angle towards his lap, but he can feel his warm, calloused hand on his shoulder—the same hand that's held his for three years, that's cradled his face to kiss him deeper, that's journeyed down his body and back again.

He jerks away. Cas steps back, but not out of fear. He's not scared of Dean. Next to Benny and his brother, Cas has never been afraid of him. Cas steps back out of concern.

Isn't that the clincher? The same man who left him all those years ago is concerned about him now.

Dean steps off his stool and guides himself forward once his tears are strapped to the sill of his emerald eyes. Cas follows after Dean.

***

“You didn’t cause me to relapse,” Dean says, then shakes his head, which only causes weird friction from the bathroom stall wall against the back of his skull. He focuses on his hands instead, which rest neatly in his V-shaped lap. “I mean, you didn’t cause _anything._ It was my choice to give up.”

“You didn’t give up,” Cas says, who’s sitting across from him in the same shit-stinking stall, their feet barely touching, “you were two years sober. That’s an accomplishment. You were just strong for too long.”

Dean laughs, though it’s still slightly forced, “Thanks for the Hallmark words of encouragement.”

Cas smiles a little. God, what Dean would have given to see that smile—his full smile, where his gums expose and his pearly whites greet him with a little bit of tongue. What he still would give. Then, with those sapphire eyes, patient as always, asks, “What happened?”

“My dad died,” Dean says, letting that sink in, but not looking at Cas yet. “Accident at the shop. He was pulling an overnighter like he always did. The jack stands broke on an SUV he was fixing up. They didn’t find him until the next day, he was…” Dean doesn’t need to see Cas’s expression. It’ll make him feel worse than he already does. “Anyway, it was hard enough with one loss, but two was too hard to handle.”

Cas twists his own fingers, where Dean gets a better view of the ring on his right hand—it’s the same ring Dean proposed to him with. Cas… kept it all these years.

Suddenly, the stall feels like a tighter fit than it already is.

Knocking his head against the wall with a deep breath, Cas says, “I was diagnosed with lymphoma a week before I left. I went through months of chemotherapy, and another unexpected relapse, but it’s gone, thank God. I spent the last year trying to recuperate before I went out to find you again, in person, so that we could...” Cas laughs. “I knew you’d be at Purgatory’s. Not because I thought you wouldn’t stay sober, but because you love the super-size nacho platter with the jalapenos and sour cream.”

Dean’s heart feels like someone’s taking a jackhammer to it. All these years, not knowing, and then the truth comes and breaks the thick layer of concrete coding around his heart, so that nobody could break it again. But this, he isn’t preparing for. “Cas,” he says, closing his eyes as he coaxes his head down with his hands in his hair, “if I had known…”

”You couldn't have,” Cas says.

"Why didn't you call?” Dean asks, looking up. “At least to tell me you were okay.”

Cas grits his teeth. ”I didn't want to drag you into it. Every time I thought about calling, I thought about Sam and Jess and your nieces. I wouldn't have been able to live with myself if I took you away from that. You mean too much to me."

"Cas—"

"It's my fault, I know that,” Cas says, shaking his head as tears wash up on the shore of his ocean blue eyes. “I was a coward. I shouldn’t have taken off, but I just thought… I don’t know what I was thinking. Obviously, not about the vows we would’ve taken—you know, in sickness and in health.”

“Cas—”

“I should've known you would’ve been angry. I thought it would end with me, but I... I didn't mean to—"

“Cas,” Dean interrupts, finally, “I was mad because I...” Now’s where Dean’s hesitancy kicks in. It’s one thing to speak what’s on your mind, but it’s something totally different to give meaning to those same words spoken: “I still love you. I’ve never stopped loving you.” Then: “And fuck cancer, man. Sorry to sound insensitive, but it’s true. You’re the strongest person I know, and you’re right: In sickness and in health, I _still_ do. That doesn’t change. Whether we had taken the vow or not.”

Cas laughs that deep, baritone that comes out when he’s stumbles upon a conclusion that could shatter even the illusion of the five o-clock shadow surrounding his smile.

“What?”

"Funny,” Cas says, “because I couldn't _get_  mad because I still love you."

”Huh,” scoffs Dean. “Guess that makes us both a couple of dumbasses."

They fall into a comfortable silence, or as quiet as it can be anyway with the faucet occasionally sparking to life from a new user and the deafening sounds of the toilets in the surrounding stalls prior, then Cas says: “I really want to kiss you right now.”

“Well, what’re you waiting for?” Dean asks. 

Then Cas is crossing the tile, and with the same hand that touched him earlier, cups his face ever so tentatively, like Dean’s a porcelain doll on the very top shelf, and leans in.

Of course, he doesn’t have to lean too far, because Dean meets him halfway. Though he hates to admit he’s envisioned this moment many times, where they would fall back in sync so effortlessly after all this time, Dean has to concede to his fantasy having its limitations. Cas’s warm, lightly chapped lips are around his, and his tears slide down Dean’s cheeks, but Dean’s too lost in his aftershave and his shallow breathing that causes his mouth to part. Dean captures his lips again to close the gap.

 It reminds him what it’s like to drink in something real—something that doesn’t have a shelf-life.

When they pull apart, barely, since they rest their foreheads against each other, Cas hums, “You know what the only good thing about cancer was?”

“Hmm?” Dean asks, just as breathless as he.

Cas just laughs, shaking the tears in his eyes even more, “The marijuana.”

It takes Dean a moment, but once he laughs, he can’t stop. 

He knows this will take time, but they’re off to a good start.

 

 


End file.
